


He Didn’t Die For You

by albryant4



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anger, Don’t Judge, F/M, Guilt, Guinevere’s not as innocent as she seems, I wrote this in an hour, It’s probably terrible, Lance deserved better, M/M, Merlin & Arthur bromance, Merlin’s angry, Past Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), and also mourning, spoilers: if you really like Gwen this isn’t for you, very angry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:00:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29573568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albryant4/pseuds/albryant4
Summary: In which the Knights + Merlin return to Camelot after Lancelot sacrificed himself to the Veil. Gwen and Merlin have a little... ✨discussion✨
Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Lancelot/Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	He Didn’t Die For You

Merlin stares blankly at the pyre. His eyes are bloodshot red and his cheeks are tear stained, sobs tight in his chest. He stands at the back of the crowd near lower town citizens and tries his best to keep his composure. He doesn’t want to lose himself in front of all these people—not like this. 

When most of the crowd has left, he sees Guinevere crying close by the pyre. 

Arthur briefly speaks with her before he turns around and heads up the stairs to the castle. Merlin follows behind with his head hanging low, keeping up with Arthur’s quick pace to his chambers. Once they’re inside, he makes quick work of his pieces of armor with shaking hands. 

Arthur grabs his hands, stopping them from working on the laces of his dirty tunic. Merlin’s lips tremble as he fights to hold in a sob. “Look at me,” he says in a soft tone. The servant’s vision goes blurry as his head lifts to look at his master. “It’s okay.”

That was all he needed to hear. 

He collapses into a fit of sobs and tears into Arthur’s shoulders, his body shaking violently. He kept his eyes screwed shut as the king hugged his friend close, his own eyes overflowing with tears. 

Arthur always said no man was worth his tears but this one was. Lancelot was the noblest and kindest man he’d ever met. The most selfless of them all. A blind man could see the love he had for Guinevere but the love he had for Merlin was...different. It was stronger even, crossing the line of love to more of devotion every time he saw the two of them together. Lance stuck by Merlin’s side as much as possible, going with him wherever and whenever. Once, when Merlin had overslept, the King went to Gaius’ chambers only to come up empty. He checked Lancelot’s chambers out of pure curiosity and wasn’t surprised to see the two of them cuddled together, fast asleep. 

It felt like forever when Merlin finally stopped crying and composed himself, reduced to only small sniffs. “Sorry sire, I’ll fetch you a bath and new clothes,” he mutters as he prepares to step away. Arthur puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him. 

“I’ll have George do it. Go to Gaius.” 

“But-“

“But nothing. Take a few days off. That’s an order, Merlin,” he adds after he sees his hesitation. “I mean it.” 

Merlin smiles a little and hugs Arthur once more. Arthur rolls his eyes a bit but pats his back a few times. 

There’s a knock at the door and the King says they can come inside. Gwen enters with runny eyes and stops short once she sees the position they’re in. Merlin steps away from Arthur and goes to approach her but she takes a cautious step back. “Am I interrupting?” She asks.

“Of course not.” Arthur replies. “Sit. Relax.” 

“I was just leaving. Thank you, Arthur,” the servant says sincerely and he nods before leaving.

That night, Merlin sleeps inside of Lancelot’s chambers, laying on his nice bed that still smelled of him. As he cuddles with Lancelot’s favorite pillow in the dark, the door quietly opened and closed. He sits up. “Who’s there? Gwaine?” 

“Not Gwaine,” a soft voice states as she lights a candle to illuminate the shadows of her face. 

“Oh.” He relaxes and lays back down. “Came to pay your respects as well?” 

“Something like that.” She sets her cloak on a chair by a small table. She sets the candle on a holder and looks around the room with a soft smile. “He was so excited to be a Knight. Do you remember, back when we all first met?” She stands up and goes over to his cupboard, opening it a little to touch his clothes and whatnot. 

“Yes,” Merlin grounds out and swallows thickly, “I was so proud of him. Even prouder when he beat Arthur’s ass.” His eyes are trained on her.

“He put on quite the show indeed,” His friend giggles a bit. Her smile fades right after. “It’s...it’s my fault he’s dead, you know? I told him to make sure Arthur came home in one piece. If I hadn’t told him that...he’d still be here.” Her face screws up as tears fall down her face. “I’m sorry.” She steps back from the cupboard, one of his tunics in her hands.

“It’s not your fault,” Merlin replies honestly. He didn’t really feel like watching someone cry right now—he was too exhausted. 

“It was. I know Lance was noble but...it makes sense, does it not? I knew your plan was to take Arthur’s place, Merlin. And I know none of them would ever let you but I still don’t understand why him?” 

Merlin sighs, sitting up again. “He was my boyfriend, Gwen. You know that, don’t you?” 

Gwen frowns. “I didn’t. You never told me.”

“I’m quite sure he kissed me in front of you plenty of times.” 

“I’m glad he moved on, then.” 

“So am I. He could never be with you and I think he realized that after Morgana’s attack.” 

“Did he...did he still love me?” 

The right answer would be no. Lancelot himself said so to Merlin and proved it. Any chance he saw Merlin, his whole body lit up with happiness and the two gravitated towards each other immediately. He helped Merlin with his errands when he wasn’t on patrol or training. He helped him with Arthur’s armor and weapons when he stayed up late in the armory. He even gifted the man was a new neckerchief made from a very soft material. 

And Merlin doubted that Lancelot loved him because of course, there was Guinevere. They had something once upon a time but Lance cut his losses once he realized Arthur and her had a thing as well. 

_Lance watches Gwen and Arthur talk in hushed tones from across the fire. He watched as Gwen leaned in to listen more to what Arthur was saying, how her hand gravitated naturally towards his. He knew in that moment, he no longer was Guinevere’s love._

_“You’ve barely touched your stew. Do you not like it?” Merlin says as he sits down beside his friend. “I know it’s a bit salty and all-“_

_“I love it, Merlin. I’m a bit tired, that’s all.” He shoves a spoonful into his mouth and keeps his eyes on the ground._

_“I don’t know how you managed to fool Arthur before,” Merlin scowls a bit, “You’re a terrible liar.”_

_Lancelot chuckles deeply and his broad shoulders shaking with laughter. His friend joins in on his laughter as well. “You’re absolutely ridiculous—surely you know that?”_

_Merlin grins back and they laugh more._

_After the fire was put out and Gwen and Arthur were snuggled together a few feet away, Merlin could be heard shifting around underneath his much thinner blanket to keep warm. Lance was up on first watch. “Merls.” He calls out in a low tone as to not wake the happy couple. Black wild tufts of hair peek up from the blanket followed by a pale face. He opens his thick blanket and fur, gesturing for Merlin to come sleep beside him under the tree._

_Merlin scrambled over and sighed in relief as he laid down, his head on Lance’s left thigh. “That prat took all the good blankets.” He mumbles sleepily._

_Lance smiles down at his friend. “He is the King, Merlin.”_

_“Doesn’t mean he couldn’t have been a good friend and at the very least given me one,” he grumbles._

_“Sleep,” he chuckles again and runs his free had that wasn’t holding his sword through Merlin’s hair. He watches with a smile as his friend falls into slumber soon after, snoring lightly._

_By the end of the night, he’d forgotten all about Gwen and Arthur._

For Gwen’s sake, he should’ve said yes but he didn’t. It didn’t sit right with him that she was here, touching his things, asking questions and weeping as if she was his widow he’d left behind. She chose Arthur, as it was shown in her destiny. 

Lancelot chose Merlin. Again and again. 

“No,” Merlin says lowly, “He didn’t.” 

“How could you say such a thing? He did! I’m sure of it.”

“Guinevere...put his tunic back.” 

Gwen pauses. “Can’t...can’t I take this? As one last parting gift from him? I want something to remember him by.”

“You didn’t care about him when he was alive,” the warlock grunts. “Please.” He adds in a softer tone, almost a whimper. 

She frowns but puts it back and closes the cupboard. “I _did_ care about him. I was busy with Arthur, you know that. I love him.”

Merlin stands from the bed and crosses to get to Gwen. He makes sure they’re making direct eye contact in the candle’s flickering light. “If someone heard you say that, they’d turn you in to the King. You picked Arthur and he picked me, understand? He picked _me,_ loved _me,_ died for _me,_ not you. The quicker you learn that, the better.” 

“Will Arthur die for you too?” Gwen shoots back. “I know you love him. I see it.” 

“My destiny lies with the once and future king of the greatest kingdom the world shall ever know.” He answers cryptically. “I believe in Albion and I believe in him.”

“That’s not an answer-“

“Leave.” 

“Wha-“

“Get out.” 

Gwen grunts before stomping across to the chair and grabbing her cloak, covering herself with it once more. Before she leaves, Merlin calls her name. “Don’t return to his room again.”

The door slams afterwards. 

The warlock opens the cupboard with shaky hands and picks up one of Lancelot’s colorful tunics. He inhaled a deep breath. “I’ll find a way to bring you back, _fy marchog mewn arfwisg ddisglair_.”

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> I used google translate for the welsh part so if it’s not 100% accurate, I’m sorry.   
> fy marchog mewn arfwisg ddisglair means “my knight in shining armor.”


End file.
